Monday, November 24, 2014

I don't even know how to do this anymore. So apparently, Google has all these new fancy ways to post blogs? Like a new format? What the crap? I'm just me. Just plain 'ole Jessica. Let's stick with the old method and stop jackin' with things that aren't broken. Sheesh, Google. I mean, when I decide to come back and post something, whether it be a year later or 30 years later, I don't want to have to re-learn all this business. Calm your tits, Google. Let's keep things simple.

I was recently able to attend AND participate in my very first power lifting meet! It was a tiny one, not a full blown squat, dead and bench. This one was deadlift only and it was hosted by some of my favorite friends, Julia and Matt Ladewski from EliteFTS at their own amazing gym, The Region Barbell Club.

The meet, Deadlift for Hope, was organized to raise money for Relentless, which is actually a HUGE meet that raises thousands of dollars for sweet families who have children who have been diagnosed with life threatening illnesses. It's a great cause and I was honored to have been a TINY (very tiny) part of it.

Anyway. I did terrible. I missed my lift and had to settle for my second which was only like 180 lbs. BUT since then, I've worked up to 235 lbs, which is AWESOME for scrawny 'ole me. SO, blah blah blah. Enough about that. Let's get to the REAL reason I'm here.

Julia is not only my friend, but she's also the PRESIDENT of the hair club for men. Just kidding. No, she's my coach as well. This girl is amazing. She knows her stuff inside and out and I admire her so so much. I mean she is a BEAST. Just look at this woman!

While I was visiting Julia, I mentioned to her about this time I grew balls. Of course, her jaw dropped to the floor because she hadn't heard this story yet and I could have SWORN I told her. It made me think, "I need to put this story in writing for my posterity." And now here I am. Putting this story in writing for my posterity. Oh who am I kidding. I'm writing it because it's frickin funny. Aaaand maybe my kids will enjoy it too when they get older.

Back in 2005 I decided I wanted to start working out. At like, a gym. Not just running, which is mostly all I had ever done before. So, I joined a gym nearby my house and signed up for my first class there since I didn't know anything about lifting weights and didn't really know where to begin. The class was a core class that lasted an hour. I showed up all excited to get skinny and busted my butt that entire hour trying to do everything they showed us even though it was WAY too much for me to do on my first time. Surely I would lose inches off my waist like THAT DAY, right? I mean, isn't that how it works? Or so I thought.

Needless to say, I came home EXHAUSTED and immediately sore. Yes. Sore already. My stomach hurt so bad from all the stinkin crunches, side bends, planks, and just about any and every other ABDOMINAL exercise you can possibly think of. Because that's all your core is, right? Abs? No. The instructor was an idiot, unknown to me at the time, who didn't really know anything about "core" movements and should have named her class "THE AB EXERCISE CLASS". Moron.

I felt awful that night. My stomach hurt and I felt a little sick ache-y. I wasn't quite sure what was going on with my body but I assumed that since I hadn't worked out in EVER, that this was probably normal. My stomach was even a little puffy from all the attention it received that day. I went to bed hoping I'd feel a teense better in the morning, but the morning brought nothing but more soreness and even MORE puffiness. My stomach started swelling and not just a little. I'm talking 5 months pregnant big. Like I didn't even want to go pick Jake up at school because it was so noticeable. Austin came home and couldn't believe his eyes. I literally looked as if I was having a baby in the very near future. It was so odd.

I guess Austin got a little concerned, which landed me in the hospital getting an MRI to find out what exactly was going on inside of my belly. The results were, that I had just DRASTICALLY overdone myself and torn my abdominal muscles so badly that my body was sending a butt ton of fluid in to repair those muscles and that fluid just made me look pregnant. I mean it WAS pretty jiggly. Like a big 'ole bowl of jello. Aside from that, they couldn't think of any other reason that this could be happening. They had never seen anything like this before though, and were amazed at this whole story I was telling them. "Was there anything I could do to make it go away? Any medicine I needed to take to help it?" The answer was a big fat NO. I just had to wait. The fluid would eventually leave my body over time. OH, and here's the best part. "Ma'am, the fluid will leave your body, but it's prone to gravity and will move DOWNward as it exits your body." Down? What do you mean DOWN? At the time, I didn't quite understand the FULLNESS of the medical professional's comment to me. "Ok! Down sounds good. As long as it leaves!" When I think back to that moment I'm sure as soon as I left the building the workers at the hospital were all getting a nice big laugh at what was about to come into my world. And home I went.

The next few days were quite fascinating. The soreness pain had gone away and the fluid WAS going down. My belly wasn't near as big but my pelvis area was starting to take the brunt of the jello-ness. It was annoying, but not awful. I was glad that it was almost over. Or so I thought.

Day 3 brought with it some pretty impressive discoveries. I'm not quite sure how to put this politely so I'm just not going to try. The fluid was indeed doing down. DOWN to the lady bits. As in my lady lips were FULL of fluid. I'm not talking puffy. I'm talking 5 months of pregnant belly fluid NOW IN MY NETHER REGIONS. And by that I mean I had balls. Full on man balls. Yes, people. I know this is difficult for you to imagine. It is indeed anomaly. I have asked every medical professional, fitness expert, you name it. NOT ONE of them has ever heard of such a thing happening. But of course it happens to me. Of course it does. Austin is my witness to this craziness but I had balls, y'all. Thigh slapping balls. Huge, hangy downy, jiggly wiggly, uncomfortable MAN BALLS.

They would rest on my thigh as I slept. They got sweaty. They were heavy. I would find myself adjusting them throughout the day like a dirty old man. I couldn't leave the house because I had a PACKAGE in my PANTS!! IT WAS OUT OF CONTROL!!!

For about 3 days I had testicles. It was horrendous but intriguing all at the same time. I'm not sure Austin can say the same, but for ME? It was a whole new world *sing Aladdin right there*. Eventually they got smaller and smaller and did go completely away without any permanent physical damage, but I will never EVER be able to erase that memory from my mind. And I'm not sure I even want to. I mean how many women can say, "Remember that time I had balls?" And sometimes when Austin adjusts his man business I think to myself, "I know what that's like."

To this very day, if I do ANY exercise that involves using my abdominal muscles, my stomach swells up as a reminder to me of that fateful day, so I try to steer clear of those types of movements. I like to think of the entire situation as a learning and growing (literally) experience that I was blessed to endure. Maybe it happened to me because I needed to warn the world of the chance of obtaining balls if you exercise too much. Maybe it happened to me because Heavenly Father knew that I had a good sense of humor and could handle a situation of this magnitude. Or maybe it just happened so I could write about it on my blog and bring delight into the hearts of those who read about it.

"Hey, you wanna hear this insane story about this girl I know who grew balls one time?"